Red is definitely your colour
by Keltic Banshee
Summary: John doesn't like it when people mess with his jacket. But he may just make an exception when it comes to Ianto.


Red is definitely your colour

John has never been more grateful for silent boots and knowing how to take advantage of them. Or for finally having done something about the annoyingly creaking door of his bedroom. The sight that welcomes him as he walks in is enough to make him shiver. Head to toe. And _that_ is saying something.

"Jack was right." Ianto spins around, startled, eyes open wide, the hint of blush on those lovely cheeks quickly deepening to crimson. There is a moment of almost-blurted not-quite-words as Ianto turns away again, shrugging the jacket off his shoulders. "Red is definitely your colour." He takes a few quick steps forward and places a hand on the small of Ianto's back, keeping the jacket in place before Ianto has a chance to shake it off. The material feels strange to the touch, even though it is his own jacket. Ianto stills at the touch, tension easing off the muscles under his fingers, and looks away.

But it's hard to escape inquisitive looks in a room full of mirrors. It's one of the reasons why he loves having them.

"I..." Ianto swallows nervously and catches himself just as a hand is coming up to adjust the knot of the deep grey tie. "Just picked it up from the dry cleaners'." He smiles, taking yet another step forward, wrapping an arm around Ianto's waist. Holds Ianto in place when he tries to sneak away. It takes a moment before Ianto stops fighting it and stays still. Not quite relaxing, but that's not entirely a bad thing.

"Didn't know you liked it that much." He leaves a barely-there kiss on Ianto's neck, just above the collar. Takes in the sight of his jacket on Ianto's body, a tighter fit on the wider shoulders and more muscular frame. The contrast between the deep red and the crisp white cotton of the shirt underneath is startling after all the years he has worn it over any old tshirt that was clean enough. Ianto almost looks like one of the uptight Napoleonic soldiers he stole the jacket from. "I'm guessing Jack never told you what happened to the last person who fooled around with my clothes?"

He sneaks a hand up Ianto's belly, fingers finding their way to hot skin without even undoing a button. The braiding digs into his forearm, rough and metallic under his skin. Ianto lets out a quiet moan and bites his bottom lip, shaking his head. Ah, the beauty of it.

"I'm guessing..." Ah, the tremor in Ianto's voice. "I'm guessing it was messy." He nods. He's never been territorial about his stuff – it's never a good idea to get attached to things he may have to leave behind when rushing out of trouble or collecting his winnings. But the jacket – and his sword – are a different matter. They have history. There is a reason why they are with him. "Whatever it was."

"Let's just say they won't be around to do it again." Ianto shivers, and there's a hint of almost-fear to it. As if Ianto had just been reminded of the dangerous nature of John Hart, still alive under the pretences of good behaviour and domesticity. Something tells him Ianto is not that averse to a dangerous lover. "Though I have to admit, it didn't look half as good on them..."

Ianto smiles. That bright, intriguing smile of his that he's never quite sure how to interpret. That quiet, confident smile that seems to challenge him to do his worst. So he does, deftly undoing Ianto's belt and trousers and sneaking a hand over soft cotton underwear, tempting and teasing. Ianto moans – that makes it his time to smile. Ianto's eyes flutter closed. He rakes his nails on Ianto's belly and puffs a breath of hot air on the back of Ianto's neck.

"Look at me." Ianto swallows nervously. He bites lightly on Ianto's neck and trails his teeth, leaving goosebumps on hot skin. It takes a moment before Ianto opens his eyes again, looking entirely fuckable right now, pupils blown and that gorgeous blush. "Ah, the things you make me want to do to you, Ianto."

Ianto's smile widens, and for a second he has the feeling he's playing right into one of Ianto's carefully crafted plans. He raises an eyebrow, considering, before deciding he couldn't care less if he is. Ianto's plans have, so far, always proven interesting. He swallows, a hand slowly creeping up to Ianto's shoulder and pushing down. There's nothing gentle about it, and Ianto goes with it, falling to his knees, still smiling. He keeps his hand there, still pressing down, a reminder.

There's something about Ianto that speaks of defiance, of survival, of being in charge even when he lets someone else take the lead. Slowly, he unbuckles his gun belt and throws it aside, for once not caring about having a weapon handy. It'll be the death of him, this getting comfortable and not expecting trouble in the Palace under the Pavement, but it's hard to pay attention to such details when Ianto is licking his lips in such an inviting way.

"Are you planning on doing any of those things in the near future, or are you just going to stare?" He has to smile at the words. He stands behind Ianto, a hand on each shoulder, and just holds Ianto's gaze in the mirror. He just waits, knowing the effect of sustained tension. His hands crawl up towards Ianto's neck, loosely settling around it, and he can feel Ianto swallow and stand his ground, not even flinching. Either Ianto has more of a kinky streak than anybody gives him credit for, or Ianto knows him too well, and knows there is only so far he'll push. Most likely a bit of both.

He lets go and walks around Ianto, one hand back on a shoulder, a not so gentle reminder to stay down and play along. Ianto tries to follow his movements, head turning – he rakes nails down Ianto's neck, and Ianto moans, pleasure mixed with a hint of pain. He smiles. He's always enjoyed a lover that could handle – and even better, enjoy – a bit of a rough and tumble, but Ianto is still full of surprises.

When he stands in front of Ianto and looks down, his smile widens. Ianto is defiantly holding his gaze, an eyebrow raised, daring him – yet again – to do his worse. Without a word, he undoes his own jeans and moves a step closer to Ianto, who needs no invitation at all to open that oh so fuckable mouth of his and swallow him. He places a hand on Ianto's shoulder again, half keeping Ianto down, half steadying himself as Ianto flicks his tongue _just _so, and he almost loses it. He'd swear, but he wouldn't want to give Ianto the impression that John Hart is not in control right now.

His other hands settles on Ianto's neck, thumb running up and down, tracing muscles as they tense and relax. Fingers sneak under the collar of Ianto's shirt, and Ianto shivers as he undoes the top button and loosens the tie.

"Undo the rest." Ianto arches an eyebrow and stares at him, all innocent eyes while turning one of his own tricks against him and slowly undoing the other buttons. When Ianto reaches for the tie, he shakes his head. "Leave that."

He holds Ianto in place when the kid makes to pull away and complain, and smiles what Jack always used to call his unsettling smile. Which appears to have absolutely no effect on Ianto. There is a hint of rebellious disagreement before Ianto seems to decide to go along with the game and takes some form of revenge by trailing teeth along his cock. He can't help the moan, the jerk of his hips or the way his fingers dig into Ianto's skin.

By the goddesses, Ianto knows how to play him. And he loves it.

He swallows and holds Ianto's gaze. There is something about the image of Ianto, still in his suit trousers, on his knees and giving him the blowjob of his life – sorry, Jack, but Ianto seems to have learnt a few tricks somewhere. There is still a hint of defiance in those eyes, in the way Ianto flicks his tongue and pointedly keeps his hands by his sides. Something tells him that, even bound and gagged, Ianto would manage to look as if he were in control of the whole situation. Because, knowing Ianto, he'd most likely be.

Pleasure explodes through his body almost unexpectedly, tension and anticipation replaced with the kind of bliss that makes him crave _more _and _now_ despite feeling completely and utterly satisfied. He would have lost his footing had it not been for Ianto's hand on the small of his back, holding him steady. He takes a deep breath. Swallows. Keeps a hand on Ianto's shoulder and pushes down when Ianto tries to stand up. Tries to gather his thoughts and finds his brain struggling to cope with even the basics of standing up and breathing.

Slowly, he pulls away from Ianto, who gives him an almost believable innocent smile as he composes himself and carefully does up his jeans again. Even more slowly, he moves behind Ianto, sneaking a foot behind his legs, leather boot running up Ianto's wool covered thigh, hands firm on Ianto's shoulder. Ianto's breath hitches and there's almost a moan in there somewhere when his foot moves from thigh to thigh with a brief – and apparently welcome – stop at Ianto's balls.

By the time his foot is back on the ground, Ianto is panting, despite all efforts to look unruffled by everything he's doing. He smiles at Ianto through the mirror, vaguely regretting not being recording this for posterity. This would definitely be worth rewatching. He will have to check the CCTV recordings. Just in case.

"Undo your trousers." Barely a whisper, but it booms in the silence of the room. Ianto doesn't move. He slides his hands up Ianto's shoulders to the base of the neck and presses ever so slightly. Almost reluctantly, Ianto swallows and obeys. "Take your cock out."

Ianto tenses for a moment before complying. Maybe – just maybe – he has just found one of Ianto's personal boundaries. Ah, the wonderful feeling of expanding someone's horizons. Of being comfortable enough with a lover to know that the line will be drawn wherever Ianto considers things have gone far enough. Not to mention the beauty of flushed, hot skin against Ianto's crisp white underwear.

"If you want to come, it will be your own hand." Ianto closes his eyes. He falls to his knees behind Ianto and wraps an arm around the firm waist, the braiding of his jacket digging on his skin again. "And you will keep your eyes open." Ianto swallows, but eventually stares at him in the mirrors. "I want to enjoy the show."

Almost as in slow motion, Ianto nods and wraps a hand around his own cock, fingers curling elegantly. He finds himself whispering encouraging nonsense in Ianto's ear. Somehow Ianto has always been more comfortable watching than being watched. He pulls Ianto as close as he can, one knee between Ianto's legs, fingers idly tracing lines up and down Ianto's throat.

"Come on, Eye Candy. Give me a good performance." Ianto licks his lips and leans back. He takes the weight and _waits_. Seconds tick by. The blush on Ianto's cheeks deepens. "You know how good it feels to _watch_."

At that, Ianto's hand starts moving, almost reticent at first. He watches with a smile on his face. Drinks in the sight, the moans of pleasure that Ianto lets out every now and again. He traces Ianto's lips with a finger, and Ianto latches onto it and sucks, making him twitch. He pushes another finger into Ianto's welcoming mouth and rakes nails on Ianto's belly.

Such a beautiful sight. So far from Ianto's usual prim and proper facade, from Ianto's composed and cool self. Lost in pleasure, in want and in raw need as if they were the only things in the world that really mattered. Surrendering to it all – because Ianto does not submit, not quite entirely. Ianto just _surrenders_, which has its own appeal.

He pulls his fingers from Ianto's mouth and sneaks his hand into the back of Ianto's underwear, wet fingers teasing Ianto's ass. Ianto is positively panting by now, hips pushing against his fingers. He pulls away a little, denying Ianto what he wants, and raises an eyebrow. Ianto swallows.

"Please." The tremor in Ianto's voice makes him shiver. Slowly, he pushes a finger inside Ianto, and watches as the kid bites his lips and tries to control the moans. He pulls away again.

"Don't hold back." He pushes inside again, and Ianto lets out the most beautiful needy noises. He keeps his eyes on the mirrors, trying to take it all in: the look on Ianto's face, the utterly gorgeous flush on Ianto's cheeks, the jacket that started all of this over the crisp white shirt, Ianto's hand moving up and down that delicious cock of his, his teeth sinking on Ianto's neck, his fingers pushing inside Ianto.

Ianto comes with a shudder that shakes both of them from head to toe. There's a moment of stillness, of him nibbling at Ianto's neck and Ianto trying to regain his breath and all those things that come after a good round of sex. Of buttons digging into his forearm and Ianto leaning on him and quiet connection and a hint of wanting more. Soon.

"Don't be shy about enjoying sex, Eye Candy." Ianto shoots him a glare and is about to say something, but seems to think better of it and closes his mouth again. "You really are gorgeous." He playfully bites Ianto's earlobe. "I bet not many have seen you come like that." Ianto blushes. "My my my, you'll have to tell me the details of that."

Ianto shakes his head firmly.

"There are certain things a gentleman never tells." Ianto smiles, and something tells him it will take a lot of effort to get Ianto to talk about it. "Not that I expect you to understand it." He snorts, and pats Ianto's ass.

"But I _am_ a gentleman." Ianto laughs out loud. "I just happen to have different standards." Ianto shakes his head again in disbelief.

Slowly, reluctantly, he pulls away from Ianto and stands up, leaving a kiss on Ianto's head, and heads for the shower, leaving Ianto behind to compose himself.

Certain things do deserve some privacy after all.


End file.
